


everything we don't remember

by lazysynonyms



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Compliant, Dream Smp, Family Dynamics, Friendship, Gen, Prequel, Techno hears voices, antagonist dream, carl is in this story, everything is platonic, is it obvious i love sbi family dynamic, manipulation :(, sbi origin story, this is pretty dark, very techno centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazysynonyms/pseuds/lazysynonyms
Summary: Hidden away from the Empire's watchful eyes, Techno thought his family were safe. But when a demon king's assassins begin to hunt him, he is forced to confront a past he doesn't remember. Finding himself in the centre of a conflict between a fiery radical and the nightmare king, Techno has to choose who he wants to be. The answer will decide who lives and who dies.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is based off of the characters these ccs play on the Dream SMP - not who they really are. :)

A knight stood alone in the castle of a falling kingdom. A single flaming torch cast a dim glow on his face, soft with youth. Hand coiled around the hilt of his sword, his shadowed eyes flitted anxiously between a dark corridor and a great oak door. The castle trembled beneath his feet, stone walls groaning with every muffled impact. Dust showered from the cracked ceiling, and he swept it from his pale, cropped hair with a shaking hand. 

Still, the door remained resolutely closed. 

Outside, the wind screamed. Another impact shook the castle. The knight squeezed his eyes shut, his own shallow breathing jarring in his skull.

The heavy wooden door jolted open. Wren stood in the doorway, a shadow flickering over her grim expression. Dark curls fell around her shoulders, tucked behind elongated ears that glittered with dull metal piercings. A ripped scrap of fabric depicting the royal crest was tied around her upper arm, the threads unwinding from the embroidered red fox. With one hand, she guided three young boys out into the hallway. They looked up at the knight with tired, bewildered eyes.

“It’s time,” Wren said. “She wants us to go.” The scratchy rasp of her voice was familiar, but the fear he heard in it was not. 

The knight’s blood chilled. He glanced past her into the dark room, but he couldn’t make out the figure he knew stood inside. “Wren…”

“Phil.” Wren’s voice was sharp. “Now.”

He held her gaze, searching for reassurance in her brown eyes, and finding only turmoil. The weight of a thousand regrets touched his soul. “How can we do this?” he whispered.

Wren’s features were hard. Her hand ghosted across his shoulder. “Trust me one last time, kid.” Tearing her eyes away, she dropped to one knee, quickly fastening a cloak around the youngest boy. He watched her blearily through tangled golden hair.

Forcing himself to move, Phil silently reached for Wilbur. He pulled the boy’s hood up over his head and gently pushed long brown curls out of his eyes. The boy’s eyes were huge, and Phil took his hand in his own and squeezed it once. “Just follow me,” he said numbly. “Everything will be fine.”

The eldest boy’s face was slack. He allowed Wren to take his hand in her own. Phil wondered how much Techno understood about what was happening.

Wren held Tommy tightly with one strong arm, his head on her shoulder. She glanced back at Phil and Wilbur. “Stay close.” 

Pulling Wilbur after him, Phil followed her into the darkness. They walked quickly, hurried footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. Every torch they passed was burnt out, every doorway unguarded. Wilbur tripped as Phil whisked him down the stairs, letting out a small yelp of pain. Phil caught him with his other hand, crouching down to steady the shaking boy. “You’re okay,” he murmured. “I won’t let you fall.”

Wilbur nodded, blinking away tears. He clutched Phil’s hand tighter as they ran to catch up.

Wren and Techno were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Techno’s eyes seemed to cut through the gloom. Tipping her head anxiously, Wren shifted Tommy in her grip. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Phil said. He managed a weak smile, but she seemed to hesitate, concern written in a tense frown. “Wren. We don’t have time.”

She stared. For a moment, it seemed as though she might say something.

A distant explosion cut through the silence, and the whole castle seemed to shake as the stone absorbed the shock. Wilbur shrank closer to Phil’s side. Wren looked up in alarm, jerking her head in an order for them to follow. 

Flights of stairs and winding corridors passed them by in hushed, grave quiet. The noise of the battle was distant when they reached the wine cellars. Wren pulled keys out of her pocket, quickly clicking open the lock and ushering them all inside. 

Phil blinked into the darkness. His eyes adjusted enough for him to see walls lined with rows of barrels. Wren picked her way carefully through the stacks, her hands tracing against the wood. Techno walked in step with her, stepping easily over a rat that emerged from the blackness. Wilbur startled, and Phil kicked at it. 

After several long minutes of weaving through the maze of pillars and stacks of barrels, Phil glanced nervously behind him. “How big is this place?”

“Big,” Wren replied. “Don’t worry. I remember the way.”

Techno froze. He stopped dead, so suddenly that Phil almost tripped on him. 

Wren’s body stilled, her face unreadable as she listened. Air caught in Phil’s lungs, and he waited in agonising silence, scarcely able to breathe. After several seconds, Wren turned slowly to look at him, and he saw in her eyes that they were not alone.

Slowly setting Tommy down, she looked deliberately at each of the boys and mouthed _“quiet.”_ They continued on, and Phil was conscious of every scuff of his boot, every time he stepped slightly too hard, every brush of Wilbur’s sleeve against a barrel. There was nothing more terrifying than being heard. He felt robbed of his own senses, his human ears useless. He found himself watching Techno intently, attuned to every twitch of the boy's face.

Wren held a hand out to stop them moving. She motioned urgently at a stack of barrels beside them, and Phil steered Wilbur behind them. The curly-haired boy looped his arm around Tommy’s shoulders, holding his little brother close. Techno crouched beside them in muted terror. The five of them pressed themselves in the shadow of the barrels, hearts beating as one. Wren’s fearful breathing made the hair on the back of Phil’s neck stand up. 

And then he heard. 

The hiss of a flame lighting up. A distant prick of light glowed in the darkness. A hushed conversation drew closer.

“Anything?”

“No, sir.”

Phil jumped at the sound of barrels crashing to the ground. 

“I’m bored.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“What are you looking at me for? Keep searching.”

“Yes, sir.”

The light drew closer. 

Phil looked desperately at Wren. _We can’t stay here. They’ll find us._

She knew what he was thinking. She always knew what he was thinking.

Wren pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and pressed it into Phil’s hand. It was a roughly sketched map of tunnels leading out of the castle. She gave him a hard look, and his stomach turned.

No. He grabbed her arm, shaking his head wildly. _I can’t do this without you. They need you._ There was so much he needed to say, but all he could do was plead with her with his eyes. _Don’t leave us._

Her eyes softened for a swift moment, and she reached forward to ruffle Phil’s hair. There was a sadness in her dark, steady gaze, and he knew what it meant. _I have to._

Phil watched helplessly as Wren straightened up, her eyes hesitating on the huddled group, before she turned and ran into the dim maze. Her footsteps bounced from the walls, and Phil winced at the sound.

“I knew there was someone here!” Heavy footsteps hastened in the direction away from Phil and the boys. A second set of feet followed, and the glow of the torch began to move away.

Tommy shifted, and the scuff of his shoe against the stone floor grated in Phil’s skull. They froze. The light stopped. Phil’s heart thudded, blood roaring in his head.

The light moved again. Closer. Quiet steps, approaching rapidly. 

Phil drew his sword. Against a Fae opponent, he would lose this test of strength, but he might be able to buy the boys enough time to run. 

A stranger’s face glowed in the light of his torch. Fae ears were unmistakeable, adorned with sharp metal ornaments. He held his sword level with Phil’s head, eyes flitting between the young children. For a long, agonising moment, the soldier hesitated. And then he turned his back and walked away.

Phil’s throat was dust. He felt faint, his hand shaking with the weight of his sword. Beside him, the boys took in trembling breaths. 

“What are you doing?” the authoritative voice demanded.

“Checking over there, sir. I was just about to follow after you. Didn’t they go that way?”

“What’s over there?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Liar.” The venom in his voice sounded like the hiss of a flame. 

The torch-bearer screeched in pain, and the torch crashed to the ground, followed by a heavy thump.

And now a pair of boots were creeping towards them. Slowly, deliberately, dragging each step across the ground. Metal sang as it was released from its sheath. “Come out,” the voice purred. “I know you’re there.” A thudding kick sent a tower of barrels tumbling. Wood cracked sickeningly, and liquid trickled onto the ground. “I’ll make it quick, if you come out now. If not… no promises.”

Phil closed his eyes. _Where are you, Wren?_

Three pairs of terrified eyes were fixed on him. He had to do something. He passed the map to Techno, motioning for the other two to follow the eldest boy. “Run,” he whispered. Phil jumped out from behind the barrels, holding his sword tightly. 

Before him stood the hellish Fae general he had only heard tales of. Flames danced in his burning eyes, his dark hair wild about his head, belt adorned with glittering blades. Around his scarred neck, angry burns clawed for his chin. In each hand, a bloody knife twisted between his fingers. He grinned, and steel canines glinted among his pointed teeth.

“I’m here,” Phil spat. “Kill me, you monster.”

The brutal general tilted his head. “So soon? But that wouldn’t be any fun.”

Something moved behind him. A friend, with dark hair, and darker eyes. Hatred twisted Wren’s mouth, sword raised to plunge into his back.

The general moved faster than Phil thought possible. An agonised roar tore from his mouth, a knife driving into Wren’s arm. She was thrown to the floor, the bloody sword clattering. The general clutched his side, blood dripping from the glancing wound. Hissing in pain, he reached for the torch that lay, crackling, on the stone floor.

Phil stumbled past him, pulling Wren to her feet. She dragged him in the right direction, looking behind her only once. A knife whistled past Phil’s neck, burying itself in a barrel. Wine spilled across the ground. Splashing through it, boots stained red, they ran. 

They turned a corner, and saw that hope was lost. 

A tapestry lay crumpled on the floor, and three boys stood on it, struggling to open the small door in the wall. Phil and Wren slipped to a halt.

Techno turned to look at them, his face slack with terror. A knife screamed, and the boy let out a shriek of pain as the blade ripped into his face. 

“No!” Wren gasped, her voice breaking. She spun on her heel, sword in hand, injured arm hanging uselessly.

Techno’s cries twisted Phil’s heart. Techno clutched the left side of his face, blood spilling through his fingers. Wilbur’s wet eyes were wild with panic, trying to hold his brother upright with one hand, still tugging desperately at the door with the other. 

“You can’t run from me,” the general laughed. He held himself awkwardly, favouring his injured side. Shifting the flaming torch in his blood-slick fingers, the general deliberately pressed it into his wound, hissing through his teeth. The scent of burning flesh sent bile creeping up Phil’s throat. He backed away slowly, Wren beside him, creeping towards the boys. 

Wren pulled the fabric knot from her arm, passing it quickly to Phil. She stood protectively in front of them as Phil pressed the cloth to Techno’s brutalised face. Phil’s hands shook, blood soaking through the crest and staining his skin. The boy’s eyes were glassy with pain, his mouth open in a muted scream. 

The general let the torch clatter to the ground, grimacing. His twisted cauterisation oozed, the smoking flesh charred black. He drew two more knives from his belt, narrowed eyes resting on the boys. “My king wants them dead.”

Phil hands were sticky as he tugged at the jammed doorknob. He had to open it, or they would die.

“Your king should know better.” Wren’s voice was even, but exhaustion and pain dulled her words. “He can’t have them.”

The general chuckled. “He can have anything. And he will have everything.”

Phil glanced over his shoulder, still rattling at the door. 

The Fae lunged for each other. 

Wren’s sword glinted in the half-light, and the general screamed. Blood spurted from the stump of a severed hand. 

The door clicked open.

A knife buried itself in Wren’s neck.

Phil heard his own distorted cry.

Wren’s knees buckled. Her fingers curled around a knife that had fallen from the general’s hand, and she drove it into his kneecap. The general sobbed his agony as the bone shattered. Crimson froth bubbled from Wren’s lips.

Phil’s eyes blurred with tears. He couldn’t move, grief pounding his skull until it felt like it might break.

The general crumpled, his teeth bared in agony, a wounded, rabid animal. 

Wren’s dying eyes rested on Phil, and he saw her slipping away. His heart cut his chest, because he couldn’t do this without her, and she had taught him everything but not enough, and he didn’t know how to lose her. 

But there were three boys beside him watching her die, and all at once, Phil was all they had. Just as Wren had been for him, he was for them. 

He had to protect them.

“Wren,” he pleaded. “Make them forget.”

He saw something like understanding on her face, and her eyes glowed black. With blood choking from her throat, she saved them one more time. Three pairs of eyes darkened, and Phil didn’t wait to find out if it had worked. He snatched Tommy up into his arms and pulled the other two through the door.

Phil stumbled into the tunnel, away from the blood that mixed with wine. Away from a bloodthirsty soldier and a friend who bled for him. Away from a fallen kingdom, and from certain death.

They had one chance.

-

Three people stood in the throne room - a sorcerer, a queen, and a monster - though none of them sat on the throne. A fourth dragged his way in with one arm, leaving a bloody trail smeared across the flagstone floor. Red-soaked rags hung from the stump of his wrist. He hauled his legs agonisingly behind him, letting out a strangled gasp with every movement of his fragmented knee. 

The sorcerer wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine. He was a boy, no older than eleven, wearing a deep blue cloak with the black crest of an empire. Dark hair was swept neatly off his forehead, his chin tilted proudly as he stood at the monster’s side. 

“Is she dead?” The monster’s back was turned on the injured general, his head downturned. He rested his weight on the haft of his brutal axe. 

The general’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, she’s dead,” he spat. 

“And the princes?” 

“Dead.” The general stared at the back of the monster’s blonde head. “I caught them trying to escape through a tunnel in the wine cellar. Their bodies burn with the rest outside.”

The queen let out a grief-stricken cry, falling to her knees. “You’ll pay for this.”

The monster laughed, a hollow, cold sound. “Are you going to make me pay, Your Highness?” He waved a gloved hand, and the sorcerer drew his sword, pressing it to the queen’s neck. 

Her eyes shimmered with anguish as she stared up at the sorcerer. “You’re just a boy.”

“He’s more than that,” the monster said.

Face contorting with hatred, the queen turned her gaze on him. “Your empire will fall,” she said, her voice a tortured hiss. “A ruler with humanity will bring the inhuman king to his knees.”

The monster twisted, his axe cutting through her neck in one fluid sweep. Blood sprayed onto the blank ceramic mask that hid his face. The queen’s severed head rolled, coming to rest in the scarlet pool that dripped from her body. The silver crown clattered to the stone.

Axe resting on his shoulder, the monster kicked the metal across the floor. From his skull grew a nightmarish crown of bone, his grisly mandate. No mortal crown meant anything to the creature that haunted human dreams, the bloodthirsty Fae king with a soulless white mask in place of his face.

Dream looked between the sorcerer and the general. “I hoped they’d put up more of a fight,” he said. “I was promised that this great kingdom would pose a challenge to us. I find myself bored.”

The general looked up at his king with unfocused eyes. “Dream, my hand.”

“Oh.” The young king shook his head. “I’ll arrange you to be fitted with a mechanical replacement. We could even implant blades into it. You’re ambidextrous, aren’t you? Use your other hand to fight in the meantime.”

The sorcerer wore a deep frown on his young face. “Dream-”

“She crushed my knee,” the general said.

“I’ll get it fixed,” Dream said impatiently, nodding at the sorcerer. “What is it?”

“She cursed you.” The sorcerer pointed at the queen’s body. “Those were her dying words. You’re cursed.”

Dream scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve killed enough kings and queens to know they’ll say anything before they die.”

There was doubt in the sorcerer’s eyes. “She said a ruler with humanity will destroy the inhuman king.”

“Who?” Dream laughed, spreading his arms wide. “What human can destroy me?”

The sorcerer’s jaw ticked, and he did not reply.

“Who could touch us?” The Fae king turned to look out of the window, at the sky etched with plumes of acrid smoke that coiled from piles of burning bodies. Below the castle, the ransacked city bled, overrun with soldiers bearing shields with the empire’s crest. “It’s ours, all of it, from here to the distance of a thousand horizons. We are unstoppable.”

-

By the time Phil finally felt safe enough to stop running, the map had guided them deep into the dark, winding tunnels. He crouched on the damp stone in front of a blank-faced Techno and steeled himself to gently move the boy’s hands away from the bloody cloth he had pressed to his cheek. Young brown eyes met his, and he tried to smile reassuringly. Techno’s face remained stony, his gaze distant and unfocused.

Squinting his eyes to see the wound, Phil let out a breath. The blade had sliced the prince’s face open from the corner of his mouth to the edge of his jaw. The gash was uneven and jagged, and Phil shivered as he imagined the serrated edge that had torn through the boy’s skin. Trying to keep his breathing steady, he unravelled the cloth. “We’ll get you all cleaned up soon enough.”

It was only as he held the stained rag that he realised what it was. A scrap of their flag, heavy in his hands, the fox swimming in a sea of blood. 

“We’ll be alright,” Phil said softly. He wrapped the fabric around Techno’s lower face, tucking it beneath his nose. Tightening the knot at the back of the boy’s head, Phil examined the makeshift bandage. It was the best he could do for now. 

He straightened up, glancing at Tommy and Wilbur, who stood with matching empty expressions and eyes that stared beyond him. Phil tightened his jaw, trying not to think about what the magic of a dying Fae would do to them. “We’ll be alright, as long as we keep going.”

When the last tunnel reached a dead end, Phil reached up to touch the wooden trapdoor in the ceiling. The bolt was stiff, and he ripped it open with a shower of dust. Wilbur coughed. There was only darkness. 

“You first, Techno,” Phil said. The boy looked at him passively. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?” 

Techno nodded mutely. He followed Phil’s instructions, reaching up through the gap and scrambling through the trapdoor. His pinched face popped back over. Phil passed Tommy up to him, and then Wilbur. Finally, he hauled himself up through the gap, tearing his trouser leg on the stone. Sitting in almost complete darkness, Phil panted in the dusty air. 

“Everyone okay?” he said, slightly unnerved by the three steady pairs of eyes trained on him. The boys nodded, and he cleared his throat, getting to his feet. They looked to be in an abandoned mine. Phil took Tommy’s hand in his own, and began to climb the uneven stone, following the tunnel upwards. The boy was tired, it was obvious in the way his feet dragged. Phil felt exhaustion weighing down his own limbs. 

The entrance to the mine was boarded up. Sunlight seeped through the cracks in the planks. Phil threw his shoulder into them, slamming into them again and again until they broke apart. Rubbing his arm, he stepped out into the dawn. 

Blinking against the light, he drew a hand up over his eyes. Wind buffeted his face, and it tasted like death. He stood on a hill, the grass smothered in a grey blanket. Below him, the city burned. Dark smoke spiralled from stacks of bodies, ash dragged away on the breeze. Upon the watchtowers of the castle, the black flags flew, marked with the red cross. Another fatal stain on the Empire’s map.

Phil’s eyes stung. He was alive, and the princes were alive, but today they left behind the only life any of them had ever known. 

He turned, seeing Wilbur and Tommy slumped in the grass next to each other. Techno stood beside them, gazing at the distant city. Phil touched his arm. “We have to keep going,” he said, nodding in the direction away from the city. “That way.” 

The red forest stretched out as far as the eye could see, sinking into the horizon. It was into this autumn expanse that they would have to disappear.

Phil helped Wilbur and Tommy to their feet, and they both held onto his hands as they walked. As he led them into the forest, Wilbur looked up at him with sudden clarity in his brown eyes. “Where are we going?” he asked.

Phil thought for a moment. “Home,” he replied.

That seemed good enough for Wilbur. The boy was quiet for a while, before he spoke again. “Are you my dad?” There was no fear in his voice, no confusion in his gaze. He recognised Phil. He felt safe with Phil. But he didn’t know who he was.

“Yeah,” Phil said, squeezing his hand. “I’m your dad.”


	2. the hunter

_12 years later_

Levelling his crossbow at his target, Techno already knew he would miss his shot. A stick snapped, and he lowered the crossbow in time with the bird’s desperate flight. From a few metres to his left came a laugh. 

“Losing your touch, Techno?” 

“That was entirely your fault.” 

Phil laughed again. “You could’ve shot it out of the air.”

“From that angle, unlikely. I might have hit that branch, and I’d rather not waste an hour climbin’ up a tree to retrieve a crossbow bolt.”

Phil squinted up. “How did you know the thing would scare?”

Techno stared balefully at him. “I knew that twig was rotten through the moment you stepped on it. I could hear it.” He folded his arms, suppressing a smile. “Human hearin’ is so hopeless. You might as well be blind.”

“Cocky bastard,” Phil said, his blue eyes glinting. “I taught you everything you know.”

“Okay, old man,” Techno teased. “First to bag five kills wins. We can sell the excess in town.”

Phil narrowed his eyes. “Not fair. You can hear a rabbit from a half mile away.”

“I’ll lead you to them and we’ll take turns shootin’.” 

“You’ll still win.”

Techno cocked an eyebrow. “Why, cause you’re a bad shot?”

“Alright,” Phil scoffed. “You’re on.” 

Rabbits were not the next thing that Techno heard, however. Creeping through the forest, it was the sound of voices that filtered through the trees to his ears. Loud, cheerful, careless. He flicked up a palm on the right side of his head to signal to Phil the direction he heard something, and they slipped into silent step with each other. 

Raucous laughter drifted on the air, and Techno paused to listen.

_“I’d crush you if you weren’t using sorcery.”_

_“And I you, if you were deaf and blind.”_

_“I’m confident I could still beat you if I was deaf and blind.”_

_“Blindfold me right now, Sap, we’ll see if you last a minute.”_

Two more voices goaded them on, falling silent when the first voice spoke again.

_“No way. I’m not dumb. You could summon a storm in a second.”_

_“Oh, you’re right, why didn’t I think of that?”_

Another burst of mocking laughter.

Techno turned to Phil. “I think they’re Fae,” he whispered.

Phil’s eyes widened. “What? Goddammit, Techno, I thought we were following an animal. What have I told you about not hunting people?”

“Would you relax? I haven’t shot a person since I was eleven.”

“Some would say that’s old enough to make the distinction between person and prey,” Phil hissed.

“I’m really sick of you bringin’ that up. I thought he was a boar, how many times-”

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky he was so understanding.”

Techno held up an urgent hand. The distant bickering had gone quiet.

_“I think I heard voices.”_

_“You think?”_

_“Shut up, George, I’m trying to listen.”_

_“Let’s just keep going, I’m not wasting time tracking down a couple of kids-”_

“Pretty sure they’re soldiers,” Techno said quietly. 

Phil ran a hand through long, sandy blonde hair. “We have nothing to fear from a routine patrol.”

“Unless they’re bored.” Techno looked reluctantly in the direction of the soldiers, still arguing faintly. He’d met enough of the Empire’s soldiers in his nineteen years to know that they were rarely friendly. Intoxicated with power, frustrated by long, arduous occupations, they were prone to go looking for trouble. Something about Techno always seemed to make him a target. If it wasn’t his brutal facial scarring, it was the way he spoke - twisted, sometimes slurred, around the disfigurement that tugged one half of his mouth into a perpetual grimace. Sometimes it was his heritage. There was something so amusing about a half-Fae half-human boy with no mother. 

_Was she embarrassed of me?_ He had asked once. Phil had reached out like he wanted to hug him, stopping himself when Techno automatically stepped back. He’d looked at him sadly, like he did whenever they asked about the past. “She was never embarrassed of you. You were her pride.”

When he was sixteen, he’d been out on his own when he had run into a group of the Empire’s soldiers. He had tried to keep his eyes focused on the ground, tried to ignore their taunts, though his blood boiled with rage and he longed to show them that they weren’t invincible. The last straw was when one of them put a hand on him. How he hated being touched.

Techno broke his arm and had his hands around another soldier’s neck faster than any of them could blink. He choked him until the man’s face went blue, and they finally ripped him away. The beating they gave him left him unconscious deep into the night. Wilbur found him the next morning, bloodied and bruised. Phil sat with him for days, pressing packed snow wrapped in cloth onto his injuries to give him relief. When at last he could walk again, Phil had taken him out into the forest and looked at him with a rage in his icy eyes that chilled Techno’s heart.

“If you weren’t just an idiot boy, you would be dead,” he had said, his voice cold. “I don’t care about your fucking pride. Your brothers need you. Don’t you ever be so stupid again.”

Never had he seen his father so angry. It scared him like nothing else. After that, it was easier not to react. Hurting Phil was worse than anything the Empire’s soldiers could do to him. But still he hated them. They all did. 

Phil always said that there were many Fae who weren’t like them. There had been a time when kingdoms stood with humans and Fae ruling and living side by side. But after the Empire rose, most Fae who wouldn’t conscript into the Empire’s ranks were slaughtered in war. There weren’t many left, those who remained living quiet lives and avoiding large settlements. _Like us,_ Techno added silently. 

There was always fear. They feared humans and Fae alike, for what they might do to Techno. Half-Fae, half-human, distrusted by both. 

“Unless they’re bored,” Phil agreed. “Are they coming?”

Techno nodded wordlessly, tracking the soldiers’ movement through the undergrowth. 

“You’ll be fine,” Phil murmured. “Don’t speak and you won’t piss them off.”

“Thank you for your confidence.”

Phil smiled even as he gestured to Techno to be quiet. But seconds later, as the soldiers’ loud conversation drew closer, his face took on an expression Techno hadn’t seen since Phil had opened the door that morning to find a barely-conscious Techno doubled over in Wilbur’s grip. 

Terror.

“Who’s there?” A soldier’s self-assured drawl. 

Phil had gone very pale.

“Show yourselves!” 

_Go,_ Phil mouthed urgently. He gestured violently at the trees behind them.

Techno stared. He couldn’t run now. It was far too late. There were Fae soldiers only moments away. They would hear his heartbeat if they didn’t hear his feet. 

He didn’t understand. Only seconds ago, Phil hadn’t been worried. Now, he looked ill. He clutched the knife at his belt, knuckles white.

And then they were there. Four men, all bearing the black and red crest on their chest, armed to the teeth. Among them was a human. That was odd. The Empire hired very few humans to serve as soldiers. He wore a blue cloak, and his dark eyes swept over them with boredom. 

At his side stood the source of Phil’s anxiety. Techno could see it on his father’s face, eyes fixed on the Fae soldier, who stared right back. His neck was etched with awful burn scars, and when he flexed a hand, Techno saw that his fist was cogs and screws. He’d never seen machinery like it. Metal knitted roughly with the skin of his wrist. 

The soldier clenched his jaw. His eyes dragged from Phil to Techno, and his gaze was brutality. For an unfathomable reason, he wanted Techno dead. Techno could feel his hatred on his skin. 

“Empire patrol,” he said stonily, turning back to Phil. Something metallic glinted from his mouth when he spoke. “Who are you?”

Techno looked at Phil, alarmed. He saw his own confusion reflected on Phil’s face, but he recovered quickly, his expression softening to neutrality. “My name is Phil. This is my son. We are just doing a little hunting. Sorry if we disturbed you.”

The soldier grunted. He looked between them, as if weighing something up in his head. He was hesitating, attention flitting between them and his friend in the blue cloak.

“Your son is half Fae?” The human tilted his chin in Techno’s direction. 

Phil nodded. “His mother died almost nineteen years ago.”

“Why isn’t he speaking?”

Phil looked at Techno. There was tension flickering in his eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” Techno said evenly.

The Fae soldier’s eyes narrowed on Techno’s face. “How did you get that scar?” 

“Run in with a boar when I was little.”

“Really.”

“He was lucky to survive,” Phil cut in. “He was so young at the time.”

“Very lucky.” The soldier’s voice was a growl, the tendons tightening on his blistered neck.

The dark-haired man looked between Phil and the Fae soldier, his brow creasing. “You live in the village east of this forest?”

Phil hesitated, glancing at the Fae soldier. “No.” He cleared his throat. “My son and I live on our own in a cottage west of here. We sell what we kill in the village. That’s how we make a living.”

The human appeared to be losing interest. “You won’t know why we’re here, then. We’ve received reports of a band of outlaws in the area. Well, further north, actually. But we have reason to believe they’re on the move. Soldiers of the Empire will be occupying the outlying towns around here until we eliminate these criminals. Have you seen any strangers around recently?”

“No.”

“Mm. They call their leader ‘Seven’. You ever hear that name around, you stay away. These people are very dangerous, do you understand?”

Phil inclined his head. “Thanks for the warning.”

“We’ll be on our way now.” Blue-cloak gestured for the other three to follow him. Techno saw a mechanical hand tighten around the hilt of a sword as the soldiers passed. He watched them until they disappeared into the trees, and then he listened until their voices melted into the distance. 

Techno needed only to look at Phil to convey the message that they were gone.

His father didn’t waste any time. “We need to go. Right now.”

“Why?” Techno snatched up his crossbow and hurried after Phil, who was already marching away. 

Phil didn’t answer. “Where are your brothers?”

“Wilbur planned to play his new song for the school children in the village. Tommy went with him.”

“When we get home, you are to pack up everything we’ll need for a trip. Essentials only. I’ll go and find Tommy and Will. Wait an hour. If we are not back, leave stuff for us and go by yourself.”

“What?” Techno was bemused. “Go _where?_ Would you tell me what the hell is goin’ on?”

Phil turned on his heel, and his eyes were wild. “Techno, that man with the metal hand, that is Dream’s general.”

Shock closed Techno’s throat. “How d’you know?” he breathed.

Phil’s mouth set in a grim line. “Because he tried to kill me.” 

Techno quickened his pace to catch up with Phil’s stride. “He recognised you. I know he did. Why didn’t he say?”

“I don’t know,” Phil admitted. “The man with the blue cloak, I am almost certain he is Dream’s mortal right-hand. When I last encountered the forces of the Empire, he was just a boy, and already the most powerful sorcerer I’ve ever seen. I dread to think what he can do now.”

Techno’s mind spun. Two of the most powerful people in the Empire, here in the woods they called home.

“Dream sent two of his deadliest playthings after this ‘band of outlaws’.” Phil shook his head. “Whoever those people are, they must be a threat.”

 _Dream._ The demon king. He’d always seemed so faraway, a fairytale, a monster conjured up from the darkness when Wilbur told his fireside stories. Now, as Phil guessed at his motives and talked about his men as though he knew them, Dream didn’t feel like a story anymore. 

“It doesn’t matter why they’re here,” Phil continued. “They’re here now, and he’s seen us. I don’t know why he didn’t tell the others who we were. All I know is that he’ll come for us. And we have to be gone before he does.”

“Why?” Techno demanded. “Why does he want you?”

“Not me,” Phil said. “You.”

“Me?” Techno trailed behind Phil, a million questions fighting for prominence in his mind.

They were within sight of the house. It was short, built from log and mismatched stone, with a stout chimney that balanced crookedly atop the thatched roof. Around the steps, the chickens sifted through the grass for grain. Tied at the fence, the old goat watched them with drooping eyes. 

Storming up the steps ahead of him, Phil threw open the front door. Wilbur and Tommy sat, blinking, a deck of cards strewn across the table between them. Phil crossed the room, pulling their heads to his chest. 

Tommy pushed him away. “What’s going on?”

“Your boots weren’t at the door.” Phil’s tone was accusatory. “You didn’t take your boots off at the door.”

“Neither did you,” Tommy said, looking pointedly at the mud Phil had tracked across the floor.

“The village was packed with soldiers,” Wilbur said. His glasses were skewed on his nose. “We just came back.”

“Thank god.” Phil turned, meeting Techno’s eyes across the room, and his face darkened again. “We need to leave for a while. Pack up enough to keep us going until we reach the next village.”

“Leave? Why?”

“Just do it,” Phil said, and there was a pleading fear in his voice that set them all in motion.

Wilbur caught Techno’s eye, and his meaning was clear. _What is happening?_

Techno was hapless to answer. He pulled a pack from beneath his narrow bed and started to gather supplies. His eyes wandered to the collection of little wooden carvings on the windowsill. Some of them were new, still in progress, that Phil would sell in town when he was finished. Others were older, worn figures from their childhood. Techno remembered Phil carefully carving each one. The wren. The fox. The boar. 

“I hoped I’d never need to tell you this,” Phil sighed. “The longer we spent here, safe, the more I dared believe they had forgotten about us. But they didn’t. My boys, your mother’s name was Aurelia, and she was queen of a once great kingdom that stood in this land. On the day it fell to the Empire, twelve years ago, she entrusted you to a pair of her best knights. I was one of those knights. We smuggled you out of the castle and to safety.” 

The stag. The wolf. The crow.

All three of them had paused, staring at Phil. Techno reeled. Twelve years ago he was seven. But he had spent his childhood here. Hadn’t he?

“Don’t stop, we don’t have time,” Phil chided. “As we made our escape, Dream sent his general after us. The other knight… died in the conflict.” Techno couldn’t see his face, but he heard the catch in Phil’s voice. “We got away, because the general was too injured to pursue. I raised you as my own, with the intent of nobody ever finding out about your birthright.” He turned around, and in his hands was the little wooden wren. 

“I don’t remember,” Wilbur said. His face was slack, biting his lip, forehead creased in bewilderment. He was doing the maths. Twelve years ago - he’d have been six. Techno saw his own confusion on his brother’s face. Surely he should have even a vague memory of his mother. Something. But the past was like a fog in his mind. He didn’t remember anything before this home, in the forest, the four of them. And by the sound of it, Wilbur didn’t either. “I don’t remember any of it.”

Something flashed in Phil’s blue eyes. Guilt. Pain. “Today, the general recognised us,” he said. “He let us walk away for a reason I can only guess that, but he’ll be back. And when he comes, he will try to kill all that remains of the last royal bloodline Dream failed to eliminate.”

“So we run?” Wilbur asked numbly.

“Yeah. We run.” Techno met his father’s gaze, and he hoped that Phil felt his intent. _I trust you. No matter what._ Right now, Phil knew how best to get them out of this. He trusted that when they were safe, in time, he would tell them everything. He shouldered his pack, reaching for his crossbow.

“Wait.” Phil held up a hand. “I told you I hoped this day would never come. That doesn’t mean I didn’t prepare for it.” He pulled a knife from his belt and used it to wrench up the nails from one of the floorboards. From the narrow gap in the floor, Phil took out something wrapped in faded cloth. When he placed it on the table, Techno heard the song of metal on metal.

Phil unwrapped four of the finest swords Techno had ever seen. His blue eyes shone as he held one of the blades up to the light, twisting it in his palm to examine it. A ghost of a smile haunted his lips, and he tossed the sword to Techno. He caught it with one hand, shocked by how light it felt. A crow was engraved in the burnt-gold hilt, one dark eye looking out over its wing. He’d never seen a sword so intricately made. 

“That was mine, while I served in Aurelia’s guard. It’s yours now.” Phil passed two others to Tommy and Wilbur. “There was a reason we spent hours a week practicing sword skills since you were kids.”

Wilbur looked doubtfully at the weapon. “I’m not sure any amount of hours could prepare me to fight a Fae soldier.”

“And that’s why you’d better pray you don’t have to.” Phil buckled his back scabbard over his shoulder and sheathed the sword. “One more thing.” He held the cloth out to Techno. What once might have been white was stained and faded with age, the edges torn. A red fox was embroidered in the centre, mended crookedly. “I washed it so many times, but blood doesn’t come out easy.”

“What is it?” Techno could see the emotion in his father’s eyes.

“The royal crest, stolen out of the castle the night we escaped. You’re the heir. It belongs to you.” Phil wrapped it around his arm, knotting it tightly. He looked around at the three of them. “Are you ready?”

“What about Clementine?” Tommy asked. 

Phil’s face was blank.

“The goat,” Wilbur supplied.

Among the racing heartbeats, creaking wood and rustling leaves, Techno heard the clink of chain mail.

“Tommy, we have to leave her,” Phil said gently.

Plants crushed beneath quiet feet. Wings fluttered as the clearing suddenly emptied of birdsong.

“She’s basically blind.” Tommy was aghast. “She’ll die.”

Techno wrenched the curtains closed. “He’s here.”

Three faces dropped, and it was all up to him.

“I wasn’t expecting him to come so soon,” Phil said grimly. He passed his crossbow to Wilbur. 

“We’ll come back for Clementine,” Wilbur assured Tommy.

Blue eyes flashed. “No, we won’t.”

“Shut up!” Techno hissed. The forest had gone silent. The forest was never silent. He could hear the goat chewing, the hushed rustling of long grass in the breeze, his heart thudding in his head.

Then the metallic hiss of a knife in the air.

“Get down!” He grabbed Tommy by the collar and forced him to the ground.

The window shattered, and glass showered over their heads. A knife slammed into the wall behind them. Wilbur looked up at it, wide-eyed. He’d been standing in front of it a second before.

Light feet stepped into the clearing. Voice lowered to a ragged whisper, the general spoke. “You can hear me, boy. You can hear me with those half-Fae ears, like I can hear you. I can hear your heart pounding, faster now. I can hear every short breath. I can hear the hairs stand up on your arms.”

“What’s he saying?” Wilbur asked.

“Do you remember me, hybrid?” The general’s voice was moving. Around, towards the steps that led to the front door. “I remember you. I remember the last time I saw your face, when you escaped into the tunnels like a sewer rat while she died in front of me.” 

_Who?_ His mother?

Techno stepped back, signalling with his hands where he wanted the others to stand in the narrow room. He leaned against the counter, his hands finding ceramic. The cottage was too small. He couldn’t fight the general in close quarters with a sword. 

“Losing you that day has haunted me for twelve years.” The wooden steps creaked outside. “But here’s the thing, prince. Hybrid son of Aurelia. Heir to a fallen kingdom.” His voice rose, and Techno could hear the dark smile on his lips. “I remember you. And she’s not here to save you now.” 

The door splintered open under the force of the general’s kick, almost falling from its hinges. In the instant that they saw the general’s smirking face, Wilbur let loose the bolt from his crossbow. The general’s hand shot up in front of his face, the bolt burying itself into the metal. Techno threw the stack of plates, and the general stumbled back a step as they smashed around his head. “Son of a-”

Reaching for a chair, Techno crossed through the doorway. He swung the chair at the general, who caught it with his free hand, the crossbow bolt still lodged in the other. Gritting his teeth, Techno tightened both hands around the chair and forced the general back down the steps. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Through the window!” Phil ordered from behind.

The general’s eyes flitted away to something over Techno’s shoulder. 

Techno ripped the chair from the general’s grip and threw it towards his feet. The general’s sidestep gave him enough time to draw his sword from over his shoulder and slice through the rope that tethered the old goat. He swung the blade in his hand, testing its weight and grip. 

“You’re strong,” the general said, ripping the bolt from his mechanical hand and tossing it onto the ground. “And fast.” His eyes were narrowed, looking Techno up and down as he took two knives into his hands. “So was she. I killed her.”

Techno stared him down. He heard his family scrambling to escape the cottage behind him. 

The general inclined his head in their direction. “I’ll kill them too.” 

Techno didn’t move. “Try.”

But when the general moved to throw a fatal blade, it wasn’t in the direction Techno thought. The goat uttered a shallow groan as a knife buried into her neck. 

“Clementine!” Tommy cried.

Techno flinched around, seeing Wilbur at the edge of the clearing, dragging Tommy after him. A moment’s distraction was all the general needed. He was upon Techno in an instant. 

Techno felt a blade graze the skin of his neck before his hand closed around the metal. They both crashed to the ground, the sword knocked from Techno’s other hand. The knife cut into his palm and blood spilled through his fingers, dripping onto his chest as he forced it away from his neck. Metal fingers held his other hand in an iron grip. 

The general’s eyes were alight with sick joy. “I’ve waited so long to have you in my grip,” he hissed through bared teeth. “After I’m done with you, it won’t take me long to catch up to your brothers. I’ll carve up their faces like I did yours.”

That wasn’t an option. Dying here wasn’t an option. 

He relaxed his arm, releasing the pressure on the knife. Twisting his upper body, the blade slammed into his shoulder and he drove his elbow into the general’s face with a sickening crunch. His blood-slick hand clawed at the general’s eyes, and he ripped his other arm out of a loosened metal grip. A guttural noise tore from his throat, pain spotting his vision, but he had the general’s throat in his hands. Hooking his thumbs under the his jaw, Techno forced the Fae general onto the ground and scrambled to his feet.

His left arm burned, and he gasped his agony as he pulled the knife from his shoulder. The general lunged at him, but he was faster. Grabbing him by the arm, Techno slammed the general back against the porch post and drove the knife through his hand into the wood. Fae eyes smouldered with rage, but Techno didn’t wait for the general to tear himself free. Snatching up his sword from the ground, he ran. 

The chickens scattered around his feet. Locks of hair stuck to his face, pulled loose from his braid. He pulled the knotted rag from his arm and wrapped it tightly around his right hand to soak up the blood. Distantly, he mourned his white shirt. The stains would never come out. 

An agonised roar rang in his ears. The general was coming for him. And he knew, as his head spun and his eyes blurred, he couldn’t outrun him. The injury to his shoulder would be his end. In his head, he cursed Tommy for his stupidity, but he knew it had been his own fault. His love for his family had made him predictable.

All at once, he realised it was happening again. He had run from the cottage in the direction he’d seen his family go. If he kept following them, he’d lead the general straight to them. 

Focusing on listening for familiar voices, Techno adjusted his path slightly to take him closer to the village. They’d most likely avoid town, knowing it was crawling with soldiers. He hoped the general would be too blinded by wrath to consider this. 

Up ahead, the river rumbled. Techno stumbled towards it, bracing his shoulder with one hand. The general was catching up, storming through the forest. No more taunts. No more threats. This time, he wouldn’t hesitate. 

Techno couldn’t run anymore. His body was draining of strength, his shirt soaked. Each step was less precise. He slipped more, tripped more. The general was catching up, and there was nowhere to run. 

He stopped at the riverbank, twisting around. Sword in hand, he’d fight. Even if he couldn’t win, the longer he stalled the general the more time his family would have to get away. They were somewhere in this forest, alive, running. He would fight for them.

It didn’t take long. The general stalked into view, his mouth twisting. Blood and grime was smeared across his face, his eyes bloodshot. His hand dripped crimson around the hilt of the sword he drew from his belt. “Time’s up,” he spat. “This, I’ll enjoy.” He stepped forward.

Beneath his boot, under the fallen leaves, something clicked.

The general’s eyes flickered in the moment before the ground beneath his feet exploded. Techno was thrown off his feet, sword slipping from his hand, a sharp pain piercing his ears. Through the cloud of dust, he saw two figures drop from the trees.

When the Fae general stood unsteadily, it was clear why his legs hadn’t been blown clean off. They were bionic, dented and charred metal. He dodged a crossbow bolt, taking a limping step back from his attackers. 

Techno scrambled to his feet, legs shaking. As the dust settled, a woman with red-gold hair turned to look at him. Sharp grey eyes narrowed on him as she snatched up his sword from the ground. 

“Who are you?” he called over the roar of the river. 

A smile tugged at her lips. “You can call me Sev,” she said, tossing the sword to him. She slipped her bow from over her shoulder and nocked an arrow to it. Her jaw ticked as she drew back the string and let fly an arrow.

The general moved sluggishly, tripping as the arrow skimmed past his ear. The second figure drove him down, poised to drive a knife into his heart.

And then the wind blew everything away. It happened so fast. A spinning, screaming mass, their own miniature hurricane. The air was full of leaves, earth and dust. The sky grew arms and they grasped at Techno like they wanted to pull him apart.

A hand closed around his arm, and through stinging eyes he saw ginger hair. Her mouth moved, but he could hear nothing over the wind. She tugged him away, and he gladly followed, holding his hands to ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise. 

Down through the rocks, scrambling at the edge of the river. They crouched beneath the lip of the bank, feet submerged in ice-cold water. Techno’s head pounded. 

The wind quieted as fast as it had come. When the noise subsided, and the forest settled in deathly silence, the rush of the water took back dominance in Techno’s ears. He realised why they were here, with the water numbing their feet. It was loud enough to drown out the sound of their lungs and their hearts.

“Stand up, you idiot.” The smooth, cold voice was familiar. The man with the blue-cloak. A sorcerer, Phil had said. A powerful one.

Sev fixed him with her cold grey stare, pressing a finger to her lips.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Haven’t you learned that you can’t lie to me?” The sorcerer was impatient, angry. “Who were those hunters, that you hid their identities from me and disappeared to find them yourself?”

The general’s breathing was short and heavy. “Where is he?” 

A gasp as the sorcerer kicked him. “ _Who are they?”_

“Fine! My ears are fucking ringing, stop yelling,” the general groaned. “Do you remember Aurelia? The queen who cursed Dream in her dying breath?” 

“Twelve years ago.”

“Yeah. That night, I told you I caught Wren trying to escape through the tunnels with the three princes. I killed her, but they escaped. The knight stole them away. I knew Dream would have my head if I told him I let them get away so… I lied. Earlier, that was the knight, and one of Aurelia’s sons.”

There was a short silence. Techno felt the stranger’s eyes drilling into his head. He kept his gaze trained on the water.

When the sorcerer spoke, his voice was poison. “Are you telling me,” he hissed. “That there are _three_ living heirs to that kingdom running free?”

“Geor-”

“And not only that,” the sorcerer continued venomously. “But you lied to Dream about it for over a decade, when you _know_ about the curse?”

“I-”

“And not only that. But you knew who they were when we met them earlier, when there were four of us, and we could have ended them right then and there - and you chose to lie to me to save your own ass and let them walk away?”

“I went after them-”

“You’d be dead if not for me!” 

“Alright, I fucked up!”

“If you had just told me, they’d be dead already. Now this is on both of our necks.” The sorcerer let out a deep sigh. “You understand what this means? All this time, we thought there was no royal bloodline that remained. But there is a living human heir to a royal throne. Aurelia cursed Dream to be destroyed by a ruler with humanity.”

“He never believed that.”

“Didn’t he? What about now? There is a royal heir, alive, with Aurelia’s human blood running through his veins.”

“It’s worse than that.”

“How could this possibly be worse?”

“They’re working with the rebels. That was her. The girl, with the auburn hair. She helped one of them get away.”

_They call their leader ‘Seven’._

It was Techno’s turn to look at his new companion. She only grinned.

“Where did they go?” The sorcerer’s tone was dangerous.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t see anything through your goddamn storm.”

“You’re an idiot, and if Dream didn’t like you so much for reasons I can’t understand, I’d have let those people kill you.”

“And I should have killed you fifteen years ago, before you could become such a pain in my ass. I know you think you’re so important because you’re Dream’s newest asset, but I was here before you and I’ll be here when you’re gone.”

“Yeah, well.” The sorcerer’s voice strained with effort as he helped the general to his feet. “You can tell him that, when we explain to him what happened today.”

Their voices faded into the forest as the general limped away, supported on the sorcerer’s shoulder. Techno struggled to listen over the relentless whine in his ears.

The stranger with the dark ginger hair waited another minute before speaking. “Have they gone?” she whispered. 

Techno gestured irritably to his ears. “Still ringin’,” he said. “But I think so.”

“So.” There was something calculating in her cold grey gaze. “You’re a prince.”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Techno said dryly. 

“A Fae prince.”

“Half.”

“That’s why they want you dead. Their king is cursed to be killed by a human ruler.”

Techno shrugged. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“No, this is interesting.” She stood, reaching out a hand to him. “What if humanity is all that can destroy the immortal Fae king?”

“Right.” Techno shook his head as he waded out of the river. “You’re a wanted rebel. You want to kill Dream?”

She stared at him. “Don’t you?”

Techno snorted. “He can’t be killed. He conquered the world in a series of the shortest wars in history. Nobody can best him in battle, and that’s if you can get through the most dangerous bodyguards in the Empire.”

The rebel folded her arms. “I don’t accept that. My friend and I almost killed Dream’s general today, and we’re human as can be.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I started the job for you,” he muttered. “Where is your friend, anyway?”

She picked up her bow from where it lay, snapped, beneath a tree. “He’s fine. He will have got away in the wind, like we did. I’ll find him soon.”

Techno held his shoulder as he craned his neck to look into the gash where the blast had blown open the ground.

“Explosives are a human’s best weapon against Fae.” She was watching him. “Your hearing is too sensitive. The blast is painful, and you can’t hear properly for several minutes after.”

“Tell me about it.” 

She laughed. “Sorry. You were an unexpected variable.”

Techno narrowed his eyes at the rebel leader. Her pale skin dotted with grime and freckles, clad in dark clothing, a drawstring pouch slung across her shoulder, she looked like an unlikely candidate to bring down Dream’s all-powerful Empire. But there was a steel in her unwavering gaze, a certainty, that told him she believed she could. “So what the hell have you been doin’ for Dream to send his two lapdogs and a small army after you?”

A flash of teeth. “Killing a lot of Empire sentries.”

“Why do they call you Seven?”

“Everyone does.” She frowned. “You’re bleeding a lot from that shoulder. Come back to our camp, we’ll get it bandaged up.”

Techno shook his head. “I have to find my family.”

“Do you know where they are?”

He looked mournfully into the trees. His silence said it all.

“What if you run into those two again?” Seven nodded in the direction his hunters had gone. “Injured and all alone, you wouldn’t last a minute.”

“Respectfully, I don’t know you, or your little band of insurgents.”

She rolled her eyes. “We saved your life today. Accidentally or not, that counts for something.”

He hesitated. Whoever these rebels were, wherever they’d come from, he was reluctant to get involved. He just wanted to find Phil, Wilbur and Tommy. But as much as he hated to admit it, Seven was right. Techno was hurt, and exhausted, and he wasn’t hopeful he’d survive another run-in with Dream’s lackeys.

“Look, an enemy of Dream is a friend of mine. And apparently, he wanted you dead twelve years ago. That’s a lot longer than he’s hated me.” Seven’s tone was light, like they both hadn’t just narrowly escaped death.

“Yeah, alright.” 

A nod, like she was pleased with his decision. “Let’s start over. What’s your name?”

“Techno.”

“Seven. Pleasure to meet you.” She stuck out a hand. Techno looked at it, wondering how to explain that he had no intention of shaking it. Seven saved him, shrugging. “I’m not as bad as the stories say.”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “What do the stories say?”

There was no answer for him. Only a smile, as she turned on her heel and beckoned for him to follow her.


End file.
